


Two of a kind, we'll find a way

by yourlionheartx



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Gen, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Self-Harm, Violence, i don't know how to tag liam's thing but he likes getting hurt basically, kind of, some violence anyway nothing too graphic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-22
Updated: 2017-10-22
Packaged: 2019-01-21 07:32:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12452616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yourlionheartx/pseuds/yourlionheartx
Summary: Liam’s a mess. Niall’s a mess. They meet at a bar.Companion fic to Sweet, Wonderful You





	Two of a kind, we'll find a way

**Author's Note:**

> This is a companion fic to ‘Sweet, wonderful you’ about Liam and Niall’s friendship before meeting Zayn. Title is from Slide Away by Oasis. Sorry for this obsession I have with angsty Niall, someone needs to stop me

After Liam was knocked out during a match against a particularly strong guy he spent days pressing his fingers into the bruises, feeling the ache, feeling _something_. It took him a few months to realise he liked it. He wanted to be hit, wanted to taste blood, feel it hot on his top lip. He wanted it so badly that he started seeking it. When he wasn’t taking part in boxing matches he would go to bars and clubs and try to antagonise people, spill his drink on them, tread on their feet, just glare until someone approached, retaliated, and he could start a fight. He could feel their fist bruise his face or his ribs. One night he took it too far, came home at four in the morning with a broken nose and his Mum found out and told him she wouldn’t let him box again. The world was ending. Liam didn’t care about anything else.

Then he met an ex-popstar in a bar and things turned around. Niall Horan had suffered a very public breakdown just two years before. Liam had seen his face on most websites, the news, the front of magazines, so he knew him when he saw him propped up at the bar with a glass of straight whiskey, looking like he was about to topple off the stall.

“What happened to your face?” Niall asked when he saw Liam.

“I got in a fight,” Liam said. He eyed the glass in front of Niall. Recovering alcoholic and drug addict Niall, the same guy who Liam knew had been in and out of rehab too many times to count. They talked about him every day on Radio 1.

“Oh, tough guy, right?” Niall asked.

Liam shook his head. “I think you’ve finished drinking for the night,” he said but Niall just laughed.

“I’m fucking Irish. We don’t stop, mate.”

Liam glanced at the barman who was eyeing them both, taking in Liam’s battered face, swollen nose and black eye, and Niall’s inability to pick up his glass without spilling the contents down his chin. What a pair. Liam decided to leave Niall on his bar stall, walking out into the crowds of people who were dancing, kissing, drinking, talking. They all had someone or many people, not like Liam who was on his own. Liam was always on his own.

Someone stopped him, hand on his chest. “Liam Payne,” they drawled and Liam stared at the guy standing over him. He remembered him from somewhere, couldn’t quite recall where though. “We boxed at school,” the guys continued. “You beat me. I think I could take you on now though.”

“Go ahead,” Liam muttered, so past caring. “Like to see you try.” He tilted his head, challenging, and then the guy was pushing him back against the nearest wall and Liam felt his fist in his stomach. The pain made his vision swim.

“Come on then, that the best you got?” Liam asked, pushing the guy backwards. Next thing he knew he was lying on the floor and there was blood in his mouth. His head cracked against the hard floor of the bar so hard that maybe he lost consciousness for a moment. He closed his eyes, listening to his breaths coming out fast and heavy, feeling the throb in his head, his mouth, his stomach. The barman from before came over and he hauled Liam to his feet and got him outside, pushing him out of the door. Liam couldn’t remember how to stand. He slid down the wall outside, spitting blood out of his mouth.

“You’re one crazy fucker,” a voice said.

Liam looked up at where Niall was leaning against the wall nearby, using his hand to brace himself against the bricks. He’d been sick. Liam screwed up his face when he saw it, but Niall seemed okay, just looking Liam up and down.

“Looks like we both got kicked out the same club, so whatever – I’m Niall. In case you’re like, I don’t know, living under a rock.” Niall laughed bitterly and kicked against the wall. Then he wiped his hand over his mouth and pulled tissues out of his pocket. He walked over and handed them to Liam. “You’re a mess,” he said.

“I know,” Liam said. “I’m Liam.”

“Liam. Nice to meet you.” Niall slid down the wall to sit next to him and for a few minutes they didn’t move or speak. They just listened to the music spilling out of the door every time someone stepped outside, they watched people walking past, drunk people, sober people, people in between.

“Do you wanna come back to mine?” Liam asked.

“I’m not gay, like,” Niall said.

Liam rolled his eyes. “I’m not asking to have sex with you, Niall. I meant to clean yourself up, take a shower, have some water. I live just down that street.” Liam pointed.

“Oh. That’s cool, yeah. Cheers.”

 

Liam had only recently turned twenty, but he had his own apartment. Sometimes he got proper boxing matches, sometimes he won, sometimes he got paid quite a lot to do what he loved so he moved away from his hometown to London and he never looked back. Niall stumbled into the apartment and headed for the bathroom.

“There’s a spare towel,” Liam called out, but he wasn’t sure if Niall cared.

He sat down, put the TV on, because he knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep. That Gucci men’s perfume advert was on again, Zayn Malik riding a motorcycle around Italy and staring into the camera, looking all deep and mysterious. He looked like he’d lost weight, Liam thought. He was still in Liam’s top 5 though. Maybe three. That guy was ridiculously attractive.

Liam set out a change of clothes for Niall. He waited on the sofa. Niall left the bathroom around fifteen minutes later, shirtless, drying his hair with what Liam thought was probably his towel. “Don’t sleep then, crazy Liam?” Niall asked. He picked up the spare t shirt and pulled it on.

“Not really,” Liam replied.

“What’s your story then? You know mine, I’m guessing?”

“Yeah, I know some of yours. I – um, I’m a boxer. Or, kind of, I mean I had to quit but I’m trying to get back into it.”

“In the middle of bars? Not where you’re meant to be boxing, mate,” Niall said.

“Yeah, well.” Liam considered telling Niall, telling him why he got himself into those situations but it made him sound completely mental. Still, if one person knew mental maybe it was the ex-pop star who drove his car into traffic.

“Hoping it’s okay if I sleep here,” Niall said. “Also, you should take a shower. Wash your face at least.”

Niall was already making himself comfortable on the sofa next to Liam, propping himself up with cushions. Liam dabbed at his bottom lip and felt the blood drying there, flaking off. He pressed harder. When he was sure Niall’s eyes were closed, he sank his teeth into the cut, wincing as he tasted blood again.

God, he was so fucked up.

**

The next day, Niall wondered into Liam’s bedroom at ten in the morning and then got into bed next to him. “You’re a bit bruised up, mate,” he said softly.

Liam squinted an eye open. “I’m aware, thanks.”

“You got pain killers?”

“No.”

Niall shrugged and rolled onto his back to look at the ceiling. “Kind of blacked out, to be honest,” Niall muttered. “What’s your name, sorry?”

Liam turned to look at Niall. “It’s Liam.”

 

That’s where it starts, with a bust-up lip and the smell of whiskey. They become inseparable after that day. They go out for coffee and for some reason Liam’s telling Niall all this shit about not talking to his parents and being gay and probably being depressed and thinking he might need help with it before he picks a fight with the wrong guy and they fucking kill him. Niall tells Liam less, he’s more cautious with what he shares which makes sense after he tells Liam about a girl he was with last year who ended up releasing all sorts of shit on the internet and articles in magazines about Niall’s mental state and his addiction.

“That’s awful,” Liam says, shaking his head.

“Yeah, kind of screwed me up. I mean, even more so. I am Niall Horan, after all. The celebrity breakdown of the decade. Or century, I don’t even know.”

“It must have been tough – all of that out in the public eye all the time. I mean, man, you were what 12 when you released your first song?”

Niall huffs out a laugh. “I was 14 but yeah. I was a kid.”

 

Niall becomes Liam’s first friend and his best friend and although it takes time, he gets more and more confident around him and able to open up. He doesn’t go to the bars to pick fights and Niall doesn’t go to drink himself unconscious. Instead, Liam starts looking for a new outlet. Niall has music. He invites Liam over to his massive apartment and plays guitar, singing these lovely but heart-breaking songs about lost love. Liam’s okay at singing along, but music isn’t his passion, nor is art or literature or film or any of the stuff he wants to care about.

He cares about putting on his gloves and then letting the other guy beat him senseless. He cares about the fact he can still feel the ache when he presses his nose where the bone was broken.

“You need like a rush of endorphins, trust me – I know about rushes and highs and shit. My therapist says exercise is good. Go for a jog or a swim or we could go play footie together if you want,” Niall says from his sofa. Liam’s pacing Niall’s living room floor, fingers twitching for a cigarette but he’s trying to quit that too.

He runs, he swims, he plays footie with Niall, and he gets it, gets the rush. Then Niall signs up for the gym. He gets a free pass for a friend to try it out for the day and Liam hasn’t worked out since his brief stint at university trying to study Law. He used to go three times a week then, got pretty good at it.

He goes along with Niall, despite feeling nervous about it. When he leaves he’s sweating and smiling and aching a little, but feeling so good, better than he’s felt in ages. He signs up and starts getting in shape and he’s finally got something to focus on. The slight ache in his muscles after three sets of twelve squats beats the ache he gets when he presses on bruises and cuts. He feels powerful, he feels good. Then he starts researching, what exercises help what muscles, what should someone do if they want to lose weight, gain weight, gain muscle, tone up. He becomes such an expert on it all that he’s making gym routines for Niall to follow and people are asking him for advice.

 

He passes the exam to become a personal trainer the day before his 21st birthday. He gets a certificate and hangs it up in his empty apartment, grinning at it like an idiot. That’s when he gets the phone call.

“Hello? Is this Liam Payne? This St. Thomas hospital, you’re listed as Niall Horan’s next of kin.”

He feels his stomach drop. “Yeah. What’s happened?”

“Mr. Horan has had his stomach pumped. He has severe alcohol poisoning and dehydration.” The words blur, Liam closes his eyes tries to keep breathing.

“I’m on my way,” he manages to say.

 

Niall’s sleeping when Liam arrives. There’s a drip attached to his arm. The doctor says something about managing his hydration and vitamin levels. Liam can’t look away. He looks so pale and small. “You fucking idiot,” he whispers. “A whole year, Nialler. You’ve been sober almost a whole year.”

A few hours pass, Liam doesn’t move, and then Niall’s blinking his eyes open and he’s turning to look at Liam. “I’m sorry,” he croaks out. He coughs and it sounds like it hurts.

Liam just reaches over to get Niall a glass of water. He doesn’t even say anything when Niall breaths start shaking and he’s biting his lip against the tears that Liam can see his eyes. He sits back in his chair and looks out of the window next to Niall’s bed.

 

When they get back, Liam’s still not talking as he walks Niall up to his apartment. “Should you – I don’t know, check back into rehab or something?” he asks. 

Niall just looks so relieved that Liam said something. He rubs at his eyes. “I don’t want to,” he says.

“I don’t think it matters what you want. Do you need to?”

Niall shakes his head firmly. “It was a one off.”

Liam watches Niall walking towards the bathroom. “A one off?” Liam asks, his voice rising. Niall turns and nods. “I can’t deal with one offs, Niall. How many one offs are you gonna have? _Fuck_ , I thought you were dead. When I got that phone call, I thought you were dead.”

“I’m really sorry.”

“No. I love you, Ni. I really do and that was terrifying. We’re meant to be in this together, what the hell happened?”

“I don’t know. I heard my song in the café. I just got upset - ”

“Then you call me,” Liam shouts. “You find me. I will drop whatever I’m doing to be there, okay? You don’t drink and I don’t get the shit kicked out of me. We do this together.”

Niall crosses his arms around himself, nodding, and Liam feels choked up, tears in his eyes. “I know, I’m sorry,” Niall repeats. It isn’t enough, it really isn’t, but it’s all Niall can say now that it’s already happened. Liam sighs and walks over to him, pulling him in for a hug. “I’m so sorry,” Niall says into Liam’s shoulder. “It won’t happen again, I promise.”

 

It doesn’t happen again. Niall goes back to his group therapy sessions, talking out his issues with people from similar backgrounds. He works out more and he throws himself into his song writing with the aim of writing ‘the greatest musical comeback of the decade’. Liam gets better at his job, starts specialising in creating work outs for recovering addicts of all types, people like him and Niall who want to turn their lives around and focus on something healthy, people who used to have eating disorders and are still struggling with their body image but want to be fitter rather than slimmer.

 

Niall’s almost three years sober when he calls Liam in May. Liam holds his phone to his ear as he tries to close his stiff kitchen window. It’s going to rain.

 “Liam, I have a friend who wants to join the gym. Can you help him out?” Niall asks. He sounds distracted. Liam hears the strum of guitar strings and realises he’s on speaker.

“Yeah, sure. When can he come in?” Liam finally gets the damn window closed and he sits down with his coffee.

“Says he can make it on Thursday.”

“What’s his name, fitness level, age, that kind of stuff so I can plan something for him?”

“Oh, this is the bit you’re gonna love,” Niall says and he laughs to himself. “It’s Zayn Malik.”

Liam chokes on his next mouthful of coffee.

**Author's Note:**

> In the three years that pass, Liam reconciles with his family (they were never too bothered about his sexuality, just disapproved of the fighting). Niall meets Zayn a few weeks after Zayn collapses and he's aware that Liam has a crush on Zayn but doesn't introduce them before because he knows Zayn well enough to know he isn't ready for that yet.


End file.
